


Clive Dove Stuffing Extravaganza

by 999blackflowers



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Background layluke be warned, Belly Kink, Gen, Just a fucking pile of fried food, Overeating, Poor Clive, Stuffing, no betas we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24369967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/999blackflowers/pseuds/999blackflowers
Summary: Clive Dove faces a potentially insurmountable task in order to keep his visage as Future Luke unquestioned.
Relationships: Background Hershel Layton/Luke Triton
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Clive Dove Stuffing Extravaganza

Clive had done the impossible. Hershel Layton was a particularly difficult man to fool, as he’d learned from all his tireless research that had long crossed the line into stalking, but he’d done it. His outfit was a bit silly, truth be told. A dark blue cap resting upon his head, tall blue socks, shorts, a blazer… He felt as if he should be wearing pants, not  _ shorts.  _

He looked like an oversized orphan. A microphone hidden underneath his tie allowed the conversations that the good professor and his little boy were having to be broadcasted across a network. 

Creating a city similar to London Itself in a limited budget was of course hard, but he felt as if he’d done a good job. Cheap concrete, he could allow cracks in the road of course - the city was broken up! Under a dystopian leadership. The pavements had only set just in time, too. He’d had hundreds of people painstakingly recreating each and every sign from each street. And it was  _ just  _ to evade Hershel’s observations. As he passed each one, he wondered if some of the effort was wasted.

He’d directed Hershel to one of the restaurants he’d fitted with a working kitchen. Thankfully, he felt as if he could get away with most establishments being closed. So only a couple were open. He’d also had to only hire a small kitchen crew, who also doubled as a hotel crew, and he’d had to get cramped tunnels dug out for them to move between the various buildings-

This was a ridiculous scheme.

“Big Luke,” Hershel began to speak as he fingered the brim of his hat. Clive reminded himself to raise his gaze from the pavement to meet the man’s gaze. “How long has it been since you’d had a proper meal?”

“A-- a proper meal?” Clive looked down to the tiny chubby boy walking at Hershel’s side. His thighs slightly overfilled his thigh high socks and stretched them out, and Clive wondered if they were deliberately a size too small. He had taken his jumper off and tied it around his waist, and he noticed the boy had rather pudgy arms too. He was quite cute, although Clive still struggled to believe he was any older than eight. The boy held his hands into fists, and he beamed.

“Yeah, big me!” Luke’s eyes gleamed. 

Clive wished he’d researched Luke's favourite food. He’d determined he enjoyed fried foods primarily, but he hadn’t exactly scrounged through the garbage looking for delivery receipts. He did approach one establishment he’d recreated and decided could open, a place he thought Luke might love.

He pushed the doors open and hoped Luke wouldn’t notice any changes in interior. It was a hole in the wall establishment that mostly offered fried garbage of all sorts. Hershel glanced around the restaurant and noticed it was empty, but Clive spotted his kitchen staff all ready to go. They were stocking, he noticed.

They were being fed orders through an earpiece by Dimitri. Dimitri had a tracker on his location, and the fact he was in the restaurant, and the people were in the kitchen-

He needed to stop overthinking things. Luke plopped down at a table and grabbed the menu, eyes wide and eager. Hershel took a seat next to him, and Clive sat opposite. He decided to pick up the menu and actually look at what appealed. He could just go for a light snack, not exactly a  _ snack  _ as much as a small meal. Just a couple pieces of fried chicken, and maybe a drink.

“Seeing as you haven’t had a proper meal in a long time, how about I pay for the meal?” Hershel spoke from behind his hat. Luke had a devious smile, and Clive felt his stomach sink somehow.

“I’d love that, Professor.” Clive smiled and nodded his head until Hershel raised a hand to flag down the waitress. He’d had three waitresses and three waiters to rotate in and out, and he could grab kitchen staff if he needed to. So Alanna was up first.

She smoothed her hair and apron, a nervous look on her face as she eyed up Hershel. “S-so. Um…”

Clive knew he wasn’t recognized. Couldn’t have anyone staring at the boss. But they all knew Hershel was the centre of this operation, the person who they needed to trick. Hershel frowned.

“Miss, are you feeling alright?” Hershel asked the poor girl.

“Y-yes, sir.” She straightened up. “What would you like to order?”

Clive decided to pick out his order, but he let Hershel speak first. He knew the milkshakes would be good here, the person he hired was from a lovely lovely ice cream and milkshake bar he sometimes went to. So he wanted to order one of those.

“Six scoops of fries, 23 pieces of fried chicken, 22-” 

Clive almost felt his jaw drop but resisted. Luke looked up at the professor and tilted his head. “Can I get some sausages too, too?”

“Ah, yes, make that 25 sausages with tomato sauce and mustard, seven milkshakes, and… just some of the jalapeno poppers.” Hershel finished his order, giving Clive time to speak up.

“Um, and, I’d like to order-”

“No, no, big Luke, I’ve ordered for you.” Hershel nodded his head and smiled warmly at him. Luke matched the smile. “What kind of milkshake would you like?”

“French vanilla?”

“Five french vanilla milkshakes, make the other two chocolate.” Hershel clarified the order and smiled as the waitress nodded and stalked away. Clive  _ immediately  _ pitied his poor kitchen staff.

He suddenly understood why Luke was so chubby. He felt it suited the boy, though. He was a delightful happy young boy with a bounce in his step, despite the situation. He bit his lip.Luke had started making shapes out of the little sugar sticks in a little jar on the side of the table, too.

“ _ Professor. _ ” Clive hissed under his breath. “I’m  _ trying  _ to eat healthier.”

“Oh, is it so terrible to enjoy yourself sometimes?” Hershel chuckled. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, meeting someone from the past.” Luke raised his head to nod, before pulling the professor’s attention to the dog shape he’d made. 

“When- when--” Clive sighed. He had to keep it up.

“It’s okay, big me.” Luke looked up as he rearranged the little packets. “I’ll let you eat more than me, you’re bigger, after all. It’s logical!”

Clive twitched until a large plate of fried chicken was placed in the middle of the table. Breaded with golden breadcrumbs and still sizzling a bit with hot oil, he honestly felt it looked pretty tempting. Little plates for sharing too were placed down, but Hershel only took one piece as Luke wordlessly passed him a knife and fork from a little container at the side of the table. Then grabbed two pieces. Clive noted that the little boy was eating with his hands, so he followed in suit.

Clive had thankfully managed to get good chicken sourced and shipped down in giant containers. It was frozen, yes, but it was high quality chicken breast. As he bit into the sizzling hot chunk, he felt the salty yet juicy flavour spread out over his tongue.  _ Fuck,  _ that was actually pretty good. He quickly demolished it and sucked the oil from his fingers, but he noticed Hershel had finished his piece and wasn’t taking another one. He’d merely wiped his hands off on a napkin which now lay folded on his plate, and he held a journal to write in. Luke was peeking over his shoulder, just popping little bits of the breadcrumbs into his little mouth. Case notes, he supposed.

Hershel looked up from his book and smiled faintly. “Big Luke, I do hope that you know that this is primarily for you. Little Luke isn’t to impede on your meal.”

“Sorry, Professor?” Clive raised an eyebrow.

“It’s all for you.”

“I think I’m fine.” Clive chuckled, but the man bowed his head.

“I insist.” 

Something occurred to Clive. He made a quick deduction that Luke must eat a lot - surely not  _ this  _ amount, he assumed, but this could be another test. Hershel was clever. Conniving. Cunning. He’d have to make a decent stab into this if he wanted to get anywhere.

If he failed? Clive realized as he plucked another piece of the deep fried chicken. He might be outed. And then all of the money he’d spent on this glorious project would have gone to waste. His entire fortune down the drain. And what for? So he could fool a man for half an hour?

Clive twitched, but took a hearty bite of the chicken. The oil somehow made it taste better, and he quickly chewed and swallowed. Another bite, chew, swallow. Perhaps if he ate quickly he could get this down before his brain registered that he was full.

Unless his kitchen staff was overwhelmed. He did have a rather small crew, after all… And how many deep fryers had he gotten installed in this kitchen? 

He hungrily grabbed yet another piece of chicken, and he realized this was still kind of the best thing he’d ever tasted. He was a genius, hiring all the right people. He stuffed his face and was quick to suck the oil and grease off his fingers once again. As he reached for his fourth, he noticed Hershel was staring intently.

“Ravenous.” Hershel chuckled as the waitress hurried over to put down a couple milkshakes. The professor drank slow from his, but Luke was honestly just ready to slurp it all down quickly. 

Clive found himself facing down five whole milkshakes, but he decided that was probably a bit easier to stomach than whatever was ahead. He took one to sip, and yep, that was the  _ good stuff.  _ He once again congratulated himself as he drank deeply, thankful he’d hired  _ the best _ for this operation.

He was able to drain it to about half full before he returned his attention to the chicken. It occurred to him even after managing to down four whole pieces, he still had the giant platter in front of him. 

Clive sighed and returned to his gargantuan task, noticing once again that Hershel was staring intently. Watching. He didn’t even have his eyes on little Luke who was entertaining himself once again with the sugar sticks. As he once again sucked some oil off his fingers, he watched Hershel’s gaze linger on them. 

Was this some kind of fetish between Luke and him? He didn’t understand. He tore through a more burned chunk and paused to lick his lips but watched Hershel smile.

“Professor-” Clive sucked his fingers once again and reached for another piece, thankful he wasn’t full yet. But he recognized this was the most he’d ever eaten, at least recently. “Is this something you still like doing?” It was a gamble, but he felt it was a safe one.

“Oh, goodness, yes.” Hershel chuckled as he took the straw of his milkshake. “I suppose it’s-”

“Professah!” Luke suddenly slammed his little fists down on the table, tightening them and glaring. “You said it wasn’t-!”   
  


Hershel’s smile faded. “Well. It  _ is  _ something you enjoy, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but you’re a hypocrite!” Luke pointed a finger at him, his fingertips inches away from his nose. “You still won’t go all the way, and with how future me is acting, you’re going to leave me anyway!”

Clive was honestly a bit surprised to hear that they weren’t fucking, but he found that he’d cleared the platter. Phew. It occurred to him he might be putting on a few pounds from this, but honestly, it was that or he would be losing this entire investment. So he took the milkshake to finish, clearing his mouth of the taste for now.

“If you’re  _ going  _ to- to stuff me, then you should at least squish or touch my thighs!” Luke hissed after the professor had reminded him to  _ keep it down, people can hear us.  _ Clive drank his milkshake silently.

“Luke. If you were aware it was a sexual activity-”

“Then I could make it better!” Luke scolded. “Mo- more hot!”

“I don’t want to cross that line.” Hershel whispered.

“You  _ have! _ ” Luke’s eyes narrowed. 

Clive watched the two immediately silence themselves as the waitress moved over to replace the empty chicken platter with the pile of sausages, and pots of mustard and tomato sauce. It was kind of amazing how amazingly they simply reverted to looking normal. Luke was going back to his milkshake and sugar sticks, and Hershel had pulled his journal out again.

“So.” Clive plucked a sausage with two fingers and dunked it in the little plastic cup of ketchup. “Are you two going to eat more of this? If you two would like it.”

Hershel shook his head. “Are you feeling full already? That’s a shame.”

“No!” Clive immediately gave his answer and bit into the sausage, immediately finding it tasted so good, his lip began to wobble. It was almost like flavour exploded in his mouth, and he actually felt good about his chances of being able to finish this.

Luke, meanwhile, shot the professor a glance and took a sausage to push between his lips. Clive decided to try not to watch, directing his gaze back down to the plate as he tried to ignore the child now deepthroating a sausage.

He dipped a sausage into the mustard and tried to ignore the conversation.

“Luke, please stop that.”

“Mmf-!”   
  


As he ignored a quiet argument between the poor professor and- what he’d decide to describe as a  _ tiny brat boy _ , he managed to swallow the last bite of his sausage and suddenly felt his stomach  _ incredibly tight. _

_ Fuck. _

Clive felt his stomach training against his vest and shirt. He took a shaky breath and realized his brain had suddenly finally sparked and told him he was full. And yet, the giant pile of sausages lay mostly untouched. Still piled high and steaming with oil and dripping a little from the cracks.

His pants felt tight. Not around his crotch, but his waist. Unless it was also his crotch. Holy fuck, he did  _ not  _ want to think about what the implications would be if he was hard. His staff would forgive him for this, he hoped.

Would  _ anyone  _ judge him? He struggled to grasp the buttons on his vest with his greasy slippery fingers, and bit his lip. He managed to open it and felt his stomach slouch only slightly. Frustrated, he unzipped his pants and unbuckled it, and unbuttoned the bottom of his shirt. His stomach was bloated considerably onto his thighs, and his eyes went to the kitchen. He did see one of his staff giggling.

He bit his lip and went back to the sausages. He couldn’t imagine stomaching more. But… his investment.

Clive pulled another sausage to his mouth and sucked some oil running down his arm and bit reluctantly into it. Merely having food in his mouth now felt like a struggle. He forced himself to swallow once again, wondering if he could somehow stretch his inner stomach out. It  _ did  _ taste pretty good.

Painful bite after difficult bite, he slogged on through the pile singlehandedly. The oil on his fingers was building up and his stomach felt tighter and tighter. He wished he could bloat further or at least somehow quickly expand his stomach to fit more food, because he began to worry he may vomit. The mustard helped get it down, at least add a little taste to the growing monotony of the rich meaty taste. 

Liquids were easier to get down than meat. With shaking hands, he took the straw of one of the milkshakes to drink. The taste was sweet and once again cleared his mouth, even though he felt his stomach rumble with just how much he’d eaten. He put his head down on the table once he’d drained the milkshake, his hands trembling.

“Am- am I done?”

“Oh, big Luke, there’s still the fries coming…” 

Clive rapped his fingers on the table and put a hand over his distended belly. It was kind of soft. He raised his head and felt sweat pouring from his brow, but he blinked and watched Hershel gently sip his milkshake again.

“Y-you should let little me eat more of it.” Clive exhaled, exhausted. 

Luke reached over to put a hand on the man’s crotch. Hershel picked his hand up to put the boy’s hand on the table.

“I’m sure…” Hershel squeezed the boy’s wrist. “You can finish more.”   
  


“Noooo.” Clive hunched over on the table. “I’m more full than I’ve ever been in my life.”   
  


“I suppose I’ll have to help you finish.” Hershel sighed and shrugged. Clive kept his head down on the table and shook until the fries arrived. He raised his head when they did, seeing Luke had taken a handful. But this looked truly insurmountable.

“Pr… Professor…” Clive shook until Hershel took a handful of fries and held it right in front of his face. He had a faint smile, the corner of his lips twitching with sheer glee. Disgusting.

Clive began to eat out of his hand regretfully, hardly able to bring himself to swallow. Tears were brimming in his eyes until he finished the handful of fries off the man’s hand, and his fingers were pushed into his mouth to suck the salt off. 

When Hershel presented him with a second handful, he pushed himself to eat out of his hand once again. It was shaking. Clive realized if this was a fetish thing, the man’s cock must be hard enough to shatter a diamond. He took the miserable salty crisp fries into his mouth to chew and swallow, but as Hershel presented him with a third handful, he felt a hand poking at his distended belly from under the table.

The tears began to fall again, and he sat up and began to flat out cry. “ENOUGH!”

Luke immediately began to start shovelling the fries into his mouth seeing as he decided his bigger self couldn’t eat anymore. Clive felt as if he may be pregnant. “Please, please, professor, I haven’t eaten this much in a decade…”

“Well.” Hershel stared into his eyes, and for a moment, Clive felt as if he’d failed. His investment had gone down the drain. His fortune was worthless. He was- “If you haven’t eaten  _ this  _ much in so long, it was unfair to order you this much. I’m very sorry, Luke.”

“You did this because it’s your fetish.” Clive’s eyes narrowed, but his lip wobbled and the tears began to flow again, stopping him from presenting any further arguments. Luke decided to also steal his remaining milkshakes.

“Partially.” Hershel admitted, gently. Clive hated him so, so much. He wasn’t sure if he could even button his shirt up again. And his extras he’d hired weren’t aware he was his employer. He’d have to essentially waddle to the hotel. “Would it make you feel better if we went back to the hotel to snuggle?”

Clive didn’t know if he wanted to snuggle with this cunt anymore. He could have his tiny baby boyfriend. 

“If I can get my shirt done up.” Clive tried to pull his shirt closed again, only to find it would literally not close around his distended belly. Not even close. His face went bright pink. He’d have to walk to the hotel with it just hanging out. Hershel chuckled. He  _ hated him so, so, so much.  _ “Can we wait for Luke-?”

Luke was quite already a good way through the fries. Jesus Christ. Hershel patted the boy’s head affectionately, and Clive sighed.

He had a feeling he may have to look into some bigger pants after this. And perhaps he could call up Dimitri to fuck with Hershel more somehow while he was here. Maybe dangle his girlfriend over his head, more.

Dipshit.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Sorry this was gross. If you enjoyed, please leave a comment or a Kudos! Thanks!


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